Son of Namira
by VexEchoUmbra
Summary: The Dragonborn is supposed to be a hero, or so the stories say. What happens when the Dragonborn isn't some nobody who the divines blessed, but instead, the child of a Daedra? The world isn't ready for it, but he couldn't care less. The mortals are below him anyway.
1. Chapter 1

First story ever, don't hate on it or I'll feed your soul to the first appropriate horrible thing I see.

* * *

The first thing Gar'ret thought when the strange man walked into their camp was that his tail itched. That wouldn't mean much to any other Khajiit, but to him, who was told by his mother when he was old enough to understand that he would never feel anything in his tail, it meant a whole lot.

See, his tail only itched when something extremely bad was about to happen to him. It happened when his mother died, and when his father was taken by the Thalmor. It happened when the dragon almost killed him outside Helgen six months ago, and before every nearby dragon attack since.

And right now his tail felt like it was being invaded by ants numbering in the thousands.

There was nothing too special about the man, beyond some strange red coloration on the lower half of his cloak, which was long enough to almost drag against the ground.

'_Wait, that looks like dried blood!' _Gar'ret thought, franticly scrambling to reach his client.

"Too late", the man spoke, before stabbing Henrich Black-Briar in the throat with a strange looking dagger.

"Shit!" Gar'ret's fellow bodyguard shot out and went for his sword, hoping to gut the man who stole his paycheck.

Reacting at a speed unknown to even the fastest of humans, the cloaked man brought the dagger back and threw it into the charging bodyguard's stomach before he could even unsheathe his weapon. Twisting to right and reaching inside his cloak, he throws a trio of knives into Gar'ret, disrupting his half-charged firebolt spell and fatally wounding him.

"Did you all have to be so dreadfully predictable?" The man asks the dying bodyguards,"I mean really, the beefy idiot goes for his sword and charges in without thinking _at all_, and the cat with no weapons tries to use a spell he obviously has no skill for. A starving bosmer child could've fought better than you two." He looked honestly disappointed in their lack of skill.

"How 'bout ya come say that to my face you cowardly bastard!" The Nordic looking bodyguard with the knife in his stomach wasn't gonna take this lying down. Coincidentally, he was face down in the dirt not a half second later.

"Ah, yes, the dead man speaks like _I'm_ the coward. I may as well not even mention that he works for a family of cowards, who hide behind their money and connections." At this point, he was the only one alive in the camp, Gar'ret having succumbed to his wounds quickly and without sound. "I mean Maven was the one who sent me to kill you all. What kind of woman sends an assassin after their cousin anyway? Certainly not a woman I want to work for."

He's doing his post-murder monologue, be patient.

"Although, the pay wasn't bad. I might even consider working for her again. Unless I kill her after getting my money that is."

He offered up a mumbled prayer in a horrible language, and then ate the corpses.

* * *

Once in Riften, the cloaked man walks up to Maul, and stares him in the face without saying a word. The big nord scowls and reaches behind him to grab the pre-determined amount of gold, which was carefully counted and inserted by Maven's most trusted servant.

The last time he didn't get enough gold Maven had to replace her entire staff.

Before Maul could hand over the gold, a small, dirty hand grabs it from the side and steals it away.

"Hey! Thief!"

Maul forgot about the cloaked man and ran after the gold. He didn't care about the thief, but Maven specifically said she'd kill him if he mucked up this hand off.

The cloaked man gave a small, unnoticed smile and jumped up onto the roof of Haelga's Bunkhouse.

* * *

In the end, Maul had lost the thief – and the money – and decided he'd best spend his time drinking until he was killed when the client told Maven about his failure.

But that wouldn't happen, because the cloaked man hadn't lost the thief, and was waiting just outside the abandoned home in the corner of the city, Honeyside. He pushed opened the door after noticing the lock was broken some time ago. Upon entry, the door squeaked and the wood groaned, giving off every possible feeling that the building needed a lot of work to be even remotely comfortable.

He heard some shuffling and a gasp before he entered completely and knew exactly where the cause of both was in the house.

"Who're you!" A particularly young and feminine voice shouted from his right.

"The man who's money you stole"

Another gasp.

She – because it was definitely a she – moved to run out the door to the left of the noticeably worn bed, but before she could cover more than three feet, a hand grabbed her left arm none too gently.

"Lemme go!" She screamed, horrified by the thought of what this man would do to a poor little girl who stole from him. She knew what happened to others like her, and had nightmares of such things almost every night. She tried to push him away but it was like trying to push one of the mammoths out in the tundra. She got progressively more frantic and was about to bite him, before he did something she'd never expected.

He hugged her.

She stopped struggling almost immediately, and a tense silence settled over them.

'_He's so warm… it's like the fire at the inn._'

She froze, stunned by this unexplainable development. She didn't even notice when he started petting the top of her head like an older brother or a parent would do to a child. She melted into it and her nerves calmed, the aura of safety and warmth washing over her.

'_Why? Why is he… I don't understand…' _The girl was decidedly miffed and could barely even think about it anyway, she felt too tired all of a sudden. Only seconds later, she was sound asleep.

The cloaked man adjusted his hold and picked her up. Taking her outside and to the Bee and Barb, the man noticed all the sour looks the people he passed gave the little girl. After assuring Keerava that he wasn't a child molester and that the girl wouldn't steal anything, he rented a room and walked up the stairs. After putting her down on the bed, he examined the girl, hoping to use her body to understand how she lived.

She appeared to be around fifteen, with the developing body you'd expect of a teen. She had hair the color of honey and tanned skin that took many days outside to get. She was of average height, if not a bit short, maybe an inch above five feet, it was hard to tell while she was lying down. The most important part about her was how skinny she was, being very thin but not unhealthily so, most likely from a distinct lack of a balanced diet.

It made sense, considering she probably only ate whatever she could steal.

The cloaked man spent a short time deciding how to explain everything to her when she woke, and moved a chair to the wall. Sitting down and closing his eyes, the man fell asleep.

* * *

A/N: This is no longer a test chapter. I've been focusing on my views since I posted this and would like to remind those of you who are quitting on the first chapter that this one is vague and underdeveloped for a reason. The character will have a name, and the girl is important later. Please focus on the idea of the story rather than the writing for a couple chapters, it'll get much more interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

Second chapter of Son of Namira. This was written directly after the first.

* * *

The cloaked man woke with a start, jumping out of his chair and pulling a dagger. Noticing the lack of threats, he relaxes but keeps out the dagger.

Turning to his right, he sees the form of the thief resting still in the same position it was when he put her there. His violent awakening seemed enough to wake her, as she let out a childish groan followed by stretching and a yawn.

"You awake yet?" The man said calmly, quietly, and evenly, the epitome of monotone.

"…Yeah…" She says with a yawn, oblivious to her unusual observ-

"Wait, who're you!"

Never mind.

She jumps out of the bed and gets into what could be interpreted as a patchy defensive stance. Staring with wide eyes at the cloaked man, she searches the room for a weapon until she sttles her gaze on the dagger in his hands.

"Are you gonna kill me?" She asks, trembling.

He puts the dagger on the ground and raises his arms out to his sides up to shoulder height, displaying his lack of weapons plainly.

"That would be a waste of my time. How about you calm down and we talk about why you're in an unfamiliar place first." It was a guiding statement, meant to calm and persuade the girl out of hostilities.

She deflates, puts her arms down and stands up straight. Sitting down on the bed, she keeps her gaze on the man but lowers her head, to show compliance and understanding.

"I'm the man who was with the beefhead just inside the gates yesterday, who you stole money from", this gets her to tense up, expecting punishment," But I won't be taking actions against you. I understand why you did it; I don't blame you for being desperate for money."

Her head shoots up, shock obvious on her face. "You aren't gonna do anything to me!?" She exclaims, surprise and relief showing on her voice in equal measures. "Wait, you're that guy who busted into my house last night!" Having looked long enough, she remembered the cloak – it's the only visible thing to describe him – and get's defensive again.

"Your house?" He says, doubt and mocking floating off his tongue and into his voice," I highly doubt that was your house. You don't seem the sort to be able to afford it." He meant nothing by it, but breaking this girl's preconceptions about thievery and possession would do to improve her character.

"Yeah, my house! I live there so it's mine!" Her voice weaker than before, but still loud. She obviously believed everything she took was ultimately hers; it made some sense, considering what she took was likely never given back. But this attitude and this idea couldn't be allowed to stay.

"Would you be quiet, you insufferable child. No one wants to hear you yelling." He wasn't normally mean to non-combatants, but he couldn't push this out without some solid discipline. "You're wrong in every way, stealing something or claiming it's yours doesn't make it yours. Only a selfish child would actually think so."

"But, but… what are you talking about," She responded weakly," It's always been like that, it's always been mine…" She starts to tear up, not wanting to believe that no one would think all the things she's _collected _are actually hers. The cloaked man just waits silently, knowing what happens next. "I can't believe this… There's no way this is true." She starts crying, curling in on herself. After a moment, she's bawling and sniffling, in the fetal position up against the wall.

The cloaked man walks over silently, and kneels down on the bed to be somewhat level with her. Wrapping his arms around her, he takes her in a warm embrace comforting her in the same position that used to calm her the night before. She stiffens, then relaxes once she feels his warmth, the uncomfortable, lonely child within her seeking the what she'd been without since she was born.

After she'd calmed down, she realizes what's happening, and forcibly pushes the – still cloaked – man off her. "What are you doing!" She hisses, not accepting what just happened.

"I'm comforting you." He replies, still using the monotonous voice he'd been using the whole time. "I assumed you may have needed that, considering how you were."

She blushes, not wanting to think of how much she had wanted something like that for as long as she can remember. "You're not some kind of pedophile or something are you?" She asks, hoping to unbalance him.

"No, I am not interested in children, let alone mortal children." Mumbling the last part to himself under his breath.

"You sure?"

"Completely"

"Alright..." She says hesitantly, not willing to rely on words. "But if I find you staring at me weird I'll kick you where the sun don't shine, understand!"

"If you'd get that far, certainly." He knew if he wanted to do something, he could have when he'd put her to sleep in the abandoned house last night. "However, I'm not going to keep talking about your assumptions any longer. I wanted to offer you a job, of sorts."

"A job?" She says hesitantly, never having had people seek her out for contract thieving. "What kind of job?"

"I would like to have you travel with me, I go from place to place without companions, and the lack of conversation is more than stifling." It wasn't the real reason, but traveling from Riften to Solitude would be a pain without any proper distractions. Working under the assumption that killing random travelers and eating them would attract too much attention from guards, making traveling harder, if not more annoying.

The real reason for all the attention he'd given the girl so far was because of how he could relate – and how much he secretly wanted a little sister to tease – he himself being an orphan after _mother _was forced to push him into the mortal realm by the _others_. He'd often steal from people, or use his childish cuteness to gain sympathy. _Mother _may hate attractive mortals, but she never had a problem with being attractive herself, or having an attractive son.

Such a hypocrite.

But after a decade of thieving, he turned to violence to gain money and power, becoming a well-known mercenary. The dragon problem only being an annoyance to him meant an increase in customers looking for a traveling sellsword who wasn't scared out of business because of the dragons.

In short, he got rich off of the misery of others. _And he enjoyed it._

A sadist through and through.

However, he wasn't a stranger to acts of kindness, using his wealth to help the beggars and thieves. This little girl was an opportunity for him to help a fellow thief – and to get that little sister.

"Why would you hire someone like me to travel with you?" The girl asks, thoroughly confused.

"Obviously, you don't accept my explanation." He thought for a moment," Would you believe I wanted a thief to help come up with ways to avoid bandits and thieves?"

"No."

"How about I was interested enough to help you establish yourself as a thief across Skyrim?"

"Even less."

He thinks for another excuse and finds none," I wanted a cute little sister." He says bluntly, with a tiny smidge of embarrassment in his otherwise empty voice.

"Huh!? What the hell's that supposed to mean!?" She looks as if someone had told her the emperor was de - Oh, wait, he is.

"It means exactly that, I want to adopt you as a little sister, of sorts." Right back to monotone, why not.

"That's so weird!" She exclaims," You're just some weirdo perv aren't you!" Not even close.

"I mean exactly what I say, I want a little sister." Couldn't find emotion if you tried.

"Eh, fine." What?

"Really?" The man asks, anticipation and childish enthusiasm _pouring_ out of him at the rate of a leaking sink faucet.

"Sure, why not? Not like I got much else waiting for me here." She gives up, not caring if he's actually what she accused him of being.

"Yes!" The man shouts out, scaring the ever living fuck out of the girl (and the author).

"You didn't see that." He says, in the hopes of protecting his image.

"Okay."

* * *

Walking out of the Bee and Barb with full stomachs, the cloaked man and the girl go to the center of town.

The market.

The market area of Riften was notorious. Thieves walking unhindered through the crowd, unfair prices at every stall, and Brynjolf swindling money from skeptical buyers. But the cloaked man wasn't worried in the least, every single person here knew not to mess with him, Maven Black-Briar making certain they never-

"Never done a day's honest work for all that coin you're holding, have ya?" This idiot – Oh, it's Brynjolf – walks up to him, slipping out the words in a nervous, but still friendly manner.

"An honest day's work isn't how the rich get richer, so yes, you could say that." The cloaked man's voice sends chills down the spines of all who can hear it.

"Well, I suppose anyone who works for Maven couldn't really claim to do honest work. I'm Brynjolf, from Maven's _allies _under the city. I wanted to ask for some help, and you're the fellow who gets things done. She said you've never failed a mission, we need that kind of talent to get us out of this hole we're in."

"Hole?"

"Yeah, my friends and I haven't been doing so well in the past couple months, we need some new talent to boost us up. I know your kind, not just a master of blades but of stealth, the perfect assassin – or thief."

"I suppose I could help you."

"Great, welcome to the Thieves' Guild."

* * *

AN: So my friend reminded me to add the author's note designation to this. Review please.

Update: I fixed some of the mistakes you might have seen.


	3. Chapter 3

If you've stuck with me through the first two chapters – which weren't exciting in the least, I know – then I thank you for being patient. I've got a lot of time to write, so expect something daily, or at least every other day*.

In other words, I'll be revealing the cloaked man's name sometime in the next two chapters, as well as the third member of my OC trio.

*I'll also be letting you guys chose how long you want these chapters to be, I can do 2,500+ in a day, or 10,000+ in three or four

* * *

The Ragged Flagon was definitely what the people in Riften say it is.

A dirty, unwelcoming shithole, that is.

But the cloaked man has seen worse, hell he lived in a corpse pit for the first year of his mortal life. So with a warning to his new little sister – whose name he'd yet to ask – about the smell, he followed Brynjolf into the Flagon, watching for threats - or hands that have no business near his pockets.

"The Flagon is more of a front. It keeps the guards away from anything incriminating and provides a little business for Vekel." The nord went about explaining who everyone was and what they did, what Devin could provide and what Tonilia might buy. After the introductions, and a show of a disturbing lack of confidence in him, the cloaked man broke away from the thieves and walked right into the cistern. He'd been here before and none of these _professionals _knew it. Walking right through the conversation between two of the less important pickpockets, he glides over to the guild master's desk.

"Mercer, you idiot, why are your thieves speaking to me?" He hissed, entirely too annoyed to actually care about the explanation.

"Maven wants you to help the guild. I told them to find you. It doesn't matter now, does it?" Mercer ground out, he hated this man, always stealing the long distance jobs from the guild. "Whatever, we have a job here for you, directly from Maven, take it." Handing the sealed letter to the cloaked man, Mercer quickly turned and sat down, willing to do anything other than talk.

Spinning sharply on his heel, the cloaked man grabs his 'little sister' by the wrist and exits through the secret entrance.

Walking to Honeyside, he turned. "Grab anything you want to keep and let's go. I don't want to be in this city longer than I have to be." His mood having soured all the way through their venture through the Ratway, he was angry.

Angry at Maven

Angry at Mercer

Angry at the Thieves' Guild

Angry at Riften.

He had made it clear; he was not some errand boy. The next time something like this happened, it wouldn't just be the servants. He was plotting.

Brynjolf was an agreeable person, so was Delvin. Most of the less infamous thieves in the guild were fine, but Maven and the arrogance displayed by those directly under her had to be _tamed_.

The last time the cloaked man _tamed_ something, the city of Dawnstar had to close off the city entirely, lest the bandits or the Imperials come running to take it over.

Taking a deep breath, the cloaked man and his sister exit the city and walk down the road for a mile, past the towers, past the guards. A couple minutes past the last guard outpost, which was manned by well-hidden corpses – not that hiding them does any good when he can smell blood over a quarter-mile – he sees a light.

"Help us!" A voice from around a thicket of trees finds his ear, curious and looking for a bite to eat, he walks over to see a broken down wagon, surrounded by wolves.

"Help us, please!" A woman screams from on top of the wreck, looking decidedly less worried about her health than would be expected of a civilian surrounded by wolves.

"Really, you think this'll fool me?"

The woman shrugs, "Worth a try."

The wolves disappear, the mage letting go of the illusion. After a moment, a group of armed men and women rush out, all of them in skin-tight black and red leather. They surround the man and his sister.

"So, another poor fool wants me dead. You know how this usually goes, I hope. I stand here, you gloat and attack me, you all die and I get a free meal." This happened every other Tirdas, so he wasn't all that worried.

"You really think that you can protect her _and _kill us all, you think too highly of yourself."

"Hmm, I hadn't thought of that." He really hadn't, it didn't mean anything now, but it also brought up the fact that he needed to plan for how to travel with his new little sister, it wouldn't do to run across an entire province in a week when you had someone who couldn't do it that had to follow you.

"Hah! We've definitely got you!" There's the gloating. "Send him to the void!" There's the attack.

The first three assassins run up to him, small, thin swords in hand. One diving for the back of his legs, and two going for vitals. The cloaked man kicks the diving assassin, while blocking the sword aimed at his heart. He turns his head and the man aiming for his neck misses, stabbing his comrade in the eye.

"Gah!" The man who was stabbed in the eye falls to the ground, his sword cutting the already grounded leg-slashers throat. The cloaked man knees the assassin in front of him in the groin, sending him to the ground with a whimper.

"Is this really all you've got!?" He wasn't expecting much better, but he hadn't even had to draw his own weapon yet.

"Come on you fools, get him!" The woman says, still on the broken down wagon.

'She's obviously the leader, best kill her last.' The cloaked man thought. Twisting into the proper stance, he reaches into his cloak and pulls out four knives, throwing them with trained accuracy into the next wave of assassins, downing them instantly.

"What!" The woman shrieks. She starts to pull out her own sword, to defend herself, and looks up only to freeze.

The man wasn't there.

Looking around franticly, searching for her target, she turns around and stops.

Stops breathing, that is.

With a dagger in her throat, it'd be hard to breathe anyway.

"A bit late to check behind you I'm afraid." He says, entirely unimpressed by this round of stab-an-idiot. The woman falls to her knees, and then to her side, sliding off the wrecked wagon and tumbling to the ground. The man jumps down, and walks over to where he left his little sister.

"You killed them!" She screams, terrified by the scene in front of her.

"Yes, I did. You should be so lucky that you saw this sooner, rather than later." The man draws out his sentence, trying to get to the part where he explains why he's about to eat the corpses.

That's always awkward to explain.

"So I'm just supposed to accept that you're a killer?" She asks, disturbed by his apparent "casual killer" style.

"Yes, this is Skyrim, things like this happen. Deal with it." He pauses for a moment, "Or do you need another hug?" He asks. He had no clue why hugs were calming, but it worked when _mother_ did it for him, so he assumed it was some natural phenomena.

The girl blushes, "No! I don't need another hug!" She wanted one, but it would sound weird to agree to one like that.

"Alrigh-"The sound of clapping interrupts him.

"That was a wonderful show!" The compliment comes from behind him. He spins to meet the unwanted guest with a knife in the throat, but the figure dodges with a tilt of the head.

"Who are you?" He yells out to them.

"My name or who I am to you right now?" She asks, it was a she, a dark elf, with purple-grey skin and blood-red eyes. She had on the armor of the Dark Brotherhood, like the corpses around her, but the hood was lowered, showing her black hair, with a single blood red streak.

"I couldn't care less about your name, why are you here?"

"I'm here to kill you obviously; I wanted to see what monster of a man it takes to kill so many of my assassins on a regular basis. I'm starting to run out." She says teasingly, not caring in the least that she's standing on the corpse of her fellow assassin. "I'm getting tired of sending out Babette to _collect _more recruits, she gets tired too, ya know."

"I don't care. If you want to stop losing people, stop sending them after me."

"But that just wouldn't do, we can't lose our reputation of never giving up or refusing a contract. I hope you understand how much that would ruin our _business_." She emphasizes this with an uncaring kick to the balls for the one assassin still alive.

"Well don't get your hopes up, your success rate on this mission must be somewhere at the bottom of the Dark Brotherhood's records. I think it would be a historic moment were someone to share this information with the public." The cloaked man lets the words drift out while kneeling down to poke at the skin of one of the corpses. They were feet from each other now, the smell of blood covering them both.

"Well, I hope to rectify this mistake as soon as possible" She gives an almost friendly smile, to an observer, the conversation would appear casual – without the corpses at least.

"I hope you try." The man says, letting his unseen smile show on his voice.

She gets within a foot of him and pushes his hood off, before putting her lips to his ear.

"My name is Ayem, and I am your executioner."

* * *

A/N: FIRST CLIFFHANGER, SUCK IT!


	4. Chapter 4

Fourth chapter - starts with combat, and the main character finally gets a name.

Thanks to SickReality for being my first reviewer.

This chapter will be my first time trying a perspective that isn't the cloaked man.

* * *

She was almost disappointed; her assassins had failed to kill him yet again. Almost disappointed.

Almost - because she wanted to know this man, this monster.

She had always had a thing about monsters. _Mother and Father _had told her about monsters when she was young, talking to them through the pool outside the sanctuary. Monsters weren't people, or so she was told. Through books she'd learned what monsters were expected to look like, what they were expected to do and to say. They were never shown as people, always treated like animals, talked about like animals, regarded as animals. The monsters were things like draugr, or dragons. Or mass murderers, apparently.

She had been called a monster once, by a farmer whose wife she had murdered. She hung him by his thumbs and beat his corpse for insulting her.

She didn't like insults at all. Or people who were mean to her.

She had once killed a ten year old, one of the children in Falkreath who bullied her because she looked like an elf. She wasn't an elf, at least, that's what _father _told her after she asked one day. Every time someone called her an elf after that she killed them.

For lying, she told them.

So for her fellow _monster _who obviously thought she was just some arrogant dark elf assassin, she had some _special _things to give him.

Starting with a dagger.

She pulled back away from the man, who she knew would be considered some sort of lady-killer to normal women, and pulled her dagger across his face, drawing a large jagged line from cheek to cheek and over his nose. Dancing away with practiced ease, she drew her blade – a short sword some would call it.

She murdered the first one to call it that brutally.

It was a _wakizashi, _not some brute's _shortsword_. In fact, she cut off that brute's 'short sword' and he cried like a bitch.

Settling into her stance, arm drawn across her body, keeping low to the ground. The man had thrown knives already, they had scratched her cheek as she lowered into her stance, drawing blood. They stared at each other for a moment, before the man drew back and started healing his face with a spell.

Not willing to give the man a moment of rest, she dashed forward and swung her blade low, aiming for an upwards cut on the torso. He jumped back without getting hit and drew a long curved blade that looked like a scimitar, forged with ebony. Leveling the blade with his shoulder, the man dropped into an odd stance. Leaned back with his arm bent behind him, sword pointing forward, and his back leg bent at the knee. The man stood there, an obviously offensive stance being used for defense.

'_Is he baiting me?_' She thought, smirking at his confidence. '_Let's see if his skill matches his attitude.'_

She sprung forward, a blur to anyone but her target. Swinging at his forward leg first, she was knocked off balance when instead of cutting him down, she was sent back with a kick. Angry with her lack of real progress, Ayem drew her dagger and adjusted her stance, preparing to rush again.

Before she could, the man dropped his sword and curled forward, destruction magic sparking in his hands. Running forward, she threw the dagger as a distraction, fixing her grip on the hilt of her blade with two hands. Having failed swinging for the legs the first time, she goes for his elbows, hoping to disable his arms – and his magic.

The man, seeing her target, moves forward getting inside her guard. He forces his hands forward into her stomach, and shocks her point blank with a Thunderbolt spell.

* * *

"Ugh… What the hell happened?" Ayem opens her eyes slowly, feeling pain as she does. After a moment, she remembers that the last thing she saw before sleeping was the man's face only inches from hers, and sits up quickly.

Too quickly.

"Ah! Shit!" She wraps her arms around her abdomen, feeling a burning pain all throughout her torso. "Why-"

"I see you're awake." She turns and flinches, both at the sight of the man, and the pain of moving too quickly.

"Why am I not dead?"

"...You ruined my appetite."

"I… what?" She asks, not understanding what food has to do with her not being with _father_.

"You ruined my appetite, the cut across my face made eating your comrades painful." He had put his hood back over his head, "So eating you would have only made it worse."

"Eating…" Her face morphs into shock, "You eat people!?"

"Yes."

"Eh… Whatever." She settles back down on the surprisingly soft bedroll, entirely calm.

"That's it?" He was surprised, normally someone took far longer to be comfortable around a cannibal. Being his prisoner, she should have taken longer still. "No, 'Get away from me you horrible monster' or ' You're disgusting and should go die'?"

"Nope."

"Alright." If his prisoner was so nonchalant, then he had no reason to be negative.

"So you're not gonna kill me?" She asks, giving the man a curious look, no fear in her voice.

"Nope."

"Geez. You don't talk a lot do you?" She failed to kill him, but that didn't mean she couldn't get some questions answered.

"Nope."

"Really, are you going to answer me with anything other than 'nope'?"

"Nope."

"Great…" So that failed.

"Your name is Daedric, Ayem from A in their language's alphabet." He knew that because it was his first language, not like he could ever pray over his _meals_ in any mortal language anyway.

"So what, I'm not some Daedra worshipper if that's what you're asking."

"That's questionable at best."

"Sithis", '_Bless you father' _, "is no Daedra."

"I know that, but he is considered to be one by many."

Why couldn't she stab this man? She would have stabbed anyone else who did this, being good with words was her thing.

It should be noted that Ayem's words have caused a large number of conflicts and should be considered a weapon all their own.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter anyway."

"Don't just say it doesn't matter." She was getting angry, this man was looking down at her. She could hear it when he spoke. "If it didn't matter you wouldn't ask. Are you looking for Daedra worshippers or something?" She'd get her answers damn it!

"Yes, I am searching for any shrine to Namira. It's very important." If the information wasn't important, he'd never have answered the question, that much was obvious.

"Hooo, I know the location of the only one in Skyrim." Ayem says confidently, she knew exactly how she wanted this to go.

"Where!" He shouts, the desperation in his voice only surpassed by relief.

It still sounded monotone, somehow.

"I'll never tell," She smirked and said in a voice fit for a arrogant Elder Council member, "you'll just have to take me with you." '_I'll get my answers one way or another.'_

"Fine." Gah! The uncaring monotone is back!

"What? That's it? No arguing or-"

"I really need to find this shrine, _mother _will be mad I took so long." Mumbling the last part to himself, he sighed in resignation and started picking up the camp. "By the way, my name is Nekov."

"My name is Allison!"

"Gah!" Twisting around to see the little girl who followed Nekov, she let out a shaky breath, "Kid, never do that again."

"So where are we going?" Nekov asks.

"It's in the Reach."

"So to Markarth, then."

* * *

A/N: That's it, I'm done for today. Review please.

Update - like 20 minutes later - saropilise, thanks for the review and I'll take your advice into consideration, but the lack of detailed thoughts is to keep you guys in the dark. The rest of it is me being lazy, I just started this, and want to get enough of it out to get an audience. Meaning I'll fix it later.


	5. Chapter 5

You guys are awesome, really, really awesome. Thanks for all the positive feedback. I started writing early today for you guys (It's 5:30AM).

In other news, Ayem is my other supernatural psycho and a tribute to my friend who's helping me with any roadblocks I come up to. He's a great friend and he also managed to get me up off my butt to write this story. So the weapons, abilities and fighting style are all him when it comes to her, as well as some of her personal quirks.

Enjoy the long chapter five.

* * *

'_Rain… Why did it have to rain?'_

"I'm cold!"

"I'm wet!"

"I'm tired!"

"We're gonna get sick out here like this!"

"Shut up!" Nekov shouted. His little trio had only been on the road for an hour, and as soon as it started raining, his companions started complaining.

It was grating on his already frayed nerves.

He had taken his hood off when they left, and it seems that being able to see his face meant being able to complain, because they'd never be so whiny if he still had his hood up.

It tends to intimidate people when they can't see your… anything. It's a full body cloak after all.

"If rain does _this _to you, then I don't think I can trust either of you to do anything helpful." Nekov was normally an alright guy – if a bit creepy – but these two looked ready to break down a brick wall to get a reaction out of him. "You're already slowing me down as it is."

"You're the one who asked me to come with you." Allison says, a petulant look on her face, "I didn't even have to do it. Geez, I thought you'd be more respectful of your _little sis_- OOMPH!" Sent stumbling forward with a hard push from the back, she almost falls on to Ayem, who was at the front of their formation.

"Well I would be more tolerant if you weren't whining." Nekov hisses, setting his face into a scowl. The roads in the Rift took a bit to manage, there were many individual paths that were shorter or longer and it made the whole area confusing to inexperienced travelers. It was almost as bad as the Reach. Well not really, but the whole trip was going to be bothersome, he was sure of it. '_Now that I think about it, I probably should have bought horses. Damn you Horse-Crusher.' _

"Hey, why are you so worried about getting there as fast as you are?" Ayem asks, her face set in to the most impressive puppy-dog pout she could perform.

She'd get her questions answered damn it!

"It doesn't matter, just keep going." Nekov's scowl grew deeper, his bad mood now settling into his voice completely.

"I wanna know, and I'm the one who knows where this shrine is, so if you want to get there at all you gotta tell me why we're going there."

"Shrine?" Allison asks, having not been told the destination. "What shrine?"

"The shrine to Namira."

"A Daedra!?" Allison shrieks, surprise and disgust on her face and on her voice.

"Yes, a Daedra." Nekov was flexing his hands now, in and out of fists.

He really wanted to stab something right now.

"But why are we going to a Daedra's shrine?"

"Because, it just so happens that this Daedra is important to my… family." He was almost growling.

"How is a Daedra important to your family?" Allison asks, her voice lowered down to normal due to the glare being sent her way.

"Not just a Daedra, Namira specifically." Nekov's mighty rage boiling over from everything that's happened since he got to Riften. "It's hard to explain. Now stop asking questions." His little sister looked scared of him, and if he had to keep answering these questions it would probably get worse.

An awkward silence settled over them almost all the way into the Reach.

* * *

"So that happened." Ayem says cheerfully, licking blood off her dagger and smiling like a child with candy.

The Forsworn had ambushed them almost as soon as they passed into the mountains, and, like always, Nekov saw fit to start with a dagger in the neck.

It all sort of went downhill from there.

On the plus side, Allison got her first kill.

And second… And third, fourth, and fifth

She was on her hands and knees throwing up and crying with an only slightly sympathetic older brother rubbing her back.

But Ayem was happy. Hell, Ayem was more than happy, she looks like someone gave her an extremely large sum of money and shoved her into a knife store.

She got to see the monster again. That wonderfully sadistic look was on Nekov's face the whole damn fight and it got her excited.

Ayem is strange…

'_**Ayem… Another child has prayed to their mother… You will go to the town of Karthwasten, kill the child Fjotra, and receive your payment from Felix the Strange in Markarth.' **_

'_Yes mother, of course I will! I always listen to you mother.'_

'_**Be careful of the one you call Nekov…' **_She added with a hiss, _**'He is… unnatural.' **_And with that, the connection closed.

'_Mother is worried about me!' _Ayem thought with glee, a genuine smile bleeding onto her face, _'But what's so bad about Nekov?' _

"Come on! We're leaving!" Said cloaked man yells over from the road.

"Coming!"

* * *

Markarth – The city of stone. Well more like the city of stone and bronze because that was everywhere as well. The Silver-Bloods ran this place like the Black-Briars ran Riften, the jarl had say because they were funded by the Silver-Bloods, and the Silver-Bloods' money kept the city on its feet. They owned the jail, which also worked as one of their mines. They owned the inn, and half the houses in the city had to be bought directly from the Silver-Bloods because they owned most of them. Any business that ran without the Silver-Bloods behind them would eventually fail, as shown by Arnleif and Sons, the general trade shop that ran out of a warehouse just inside the gates.

But any traveler wouldn't know this…

The Silver-Bloods made sure of that.

The city was muilt-teired, having multiple levels upon which the houses and other things would branch off from. The entire city was carved right out of the rock, and the 'buildings' were no different. The city was a collection of man-made caves really. The city had a temple to the goddess Dibella right in the middle of it. It was one of five things carved out of the stone tower-like structure in the middle of the city, along with the inn, and an out of the way shrine to Talos – the god of war, and of man. Understone Keep was carved out in the back of the city, the most defensible of many in Skyrim.

Our awkward trio barge through the gates, making a large series of sounds and drawing the attention of all the people in market area that sat behind the gates.

"Make way bitches, I'm coming through!" Ayem came through the gates first, the cause of all the noise.

"How have you lived this long as an assassin when you make this much noise?" Nekov drawls, too tired of dealing with his companions to actually care.

"By being awesome, of course!" Ayem has a large variety of personalities…

"Somehow, I doubt that." Allison half says, half yawns. Not used to long stretches of time without sleep, her eyes are only opened enough to see where she's going. With a slouch and a shuffle, she gives off the impression of someone half-dead.

With an exaggerated laugh and a large, wicked grin, she finds the nearest person – poor Hroki – and swings an arm around her neck. "Where might I find the nearest inn?" She says with a particularly threatening, but playful, undertone.

"Err, over there." Hroki points to the Silver-Blood inn quickly, her face pale and her voice shaky.

"For the Forsworn!" A voice from her right yells, and the sound of a blade piercing flesh makes its way to everyone around them.

Nekov grins the kind of grin that would make a dragon cringe, and pulls out as many knives as his hands can hold. Twisting to meet the attacker with the murderous intent a Daedra would be proud of, he throws all of the knives at once, making a pincushion out of the man.

Screaming and yelling spread from the sight of the murder, and the guards set to calm everyone down, "The forsworn are not in the city! Calm down and let the city guard handle this!"

"While the chumps do their work, we should probably get out of sight." Ayem suggests with a whisper, suddenly appearing next to him.

"I agree, come on Allison. We need to go."

"Right."

* * *

Once inside the inn, and after ordering a round of drinks for the three of them – despite Allison's age – Nekov looks around them, observing their surroundings.

The inn itself wasn't anything special. Low-lighting, a bard, and what appeared to be a constant thrum of speech. As well as what appeared to be a group of commonly inebriated men huddled in the corner.

The bard was male, and had armor that looked to be crafted more for show than for combat, as well as a lute that he was currently using to accompany his mediocre voice.

The man at the bar appeared to be in his fifties or sixties, and was constantly arguing with what looked to be his wife.

The rest of the patrons were mostly non-descript, they looked to be non-important anyway, but not paying attention to everything around him was a good way to get a knife in the back.

He had to be careful of that anyway, the assassin traveling with him was almost as stab-happy as he was, which made for some disturbing thoughts of what someone would look like if they both had their time with them.

He had happy dreams that night.

"That was a mess." Someone says from behind him. Turning to look at the man who spoke, he saw a local nord with his face covered in paint. The accent he had give the impression of a native to the reach.

"Yes, it was. Now how about you find someone who cares." Nekov replies, excitement boiling over to dismal boredom and a soured mood.

"Fine then, I guess I'll go." The man turns and looks down, "Oh, looks like you dropped this." Handing Nekov a piece of paper that obviously wasn't on the ground before the man turned to pick it up. He walks out of the inn without another word.

Nekov turns back to the counter, and opens the note.

_Meet me at the Shrine of Talos_

"What's that?" Ayem asks, already moving to invade his personal space to see the note. Leaning on his shoulder and placing her hand on his thigh, as if trying to push him off the stool, she places her head in front of his and peers at the words on the paper.

"Shrine of Talos? What for?" She asks, shifting back to her previous position.

"I don't know, nor do I care. I'm not going to bother with the troubles of the people here." He gets a particularly sour look on his face, "I'm not some dog to send on menial tasks. Even if I was, these people ordering me around would be like frail white mice ordering around a mammoth."

"Hoooo, so confident, do you really think you're that good?" She asks, a smirk following her obvious challenge.

"It's not a matter of what I think, but rather of what is true."

"Now that's just arrogance." She chuckles loudly, "If you're so good, then where'd that scar come from?" Pointing to the scar left from her opening move when they fought, pride saturating her every word by the end.

"It was a well laid trap, made to make you feel more confident. It makes it more exciting to fight someone when they think they have a chance." Nekov grinds out, a bit of red dusted across his face. From anger or embarrassment he'd never know.

"Are you sure? I think I gave a pretty good distraction since you let me get so close." Ayem shifting her tone to something more akin to a playful tease.

"What distraction?" Nekov looked away slightly, his hopes of never letting this embarrassment be brought up shattered.

"Oh you know what I mean." She says with an unnoticeably twisted smile, shifting her body to show just exactly what had distracted him.

"I've no idea what you're talking about." He hisses, hoping to recover his lost composure. "Now never speak of it again."

"Fine, fine." She laughs loudly, with an exaggerated motion, rocking back and forwards on her stool. "But no matter how much you deny it, I'll still remember it!"

* * *

In the morning, the trio make their way out of the gates, Allison and Ayem both suffering from hangovers.

"Oh gods, my head…" Allison groans, with her hands massaging her temples and the same tired slouch as the day before.

"Quiet kid, you're too loud." Ayem whispers, a bottle of mead in one hand and the other swinging lazily.

Nekov walks up behind them and smacks them both in the head, prompting a round of groans from both and hiss from Ayem.

"Now then, where is this shrine?" He asks impatiently, hood back in place over his head. Ayem starts walking forwards, over a bridge and past where the khajiit caravans sold their wares.

They walked for an hour and a half, up and down the rocky slopes and hills that the Reach is famous for, before reaching a cave. The cave's entrance was surrounded with corpses, and blood shot well away from the opening.

"Well that looks ominous." Ayem says evenly, having recovered completely. Allison looked a bit sick, which probably didn't help her suffering.

"Yes, it does." He took out a bottle filled with a pinkish-red liquid and handed it to his little sister. "Drink that, it'll help."

She downs the whole bottle immediately and hands it back with an angry pout, "Why didn't you give me that when we left!?"

"You wouldn't learn not to drink too much if I had, now would you?

She at least looks a little sheepish.

"Exactly. Now, I've got a Daedra to communicate with, so you can stay here."

"No way bub, I ain't missing something like this. Don't expect me to come all this way and _not _see what you're doing." Ayem crosses her arms across her slightly impressive chest, "No way, no how."

"You're like a child."

"Gah!"

"Can I come?" Allison asks quietly.

"Sure." A rare, true smile finds its way to Nekov's face, before twisting slightly. "What kind of brother would I be if I didn't let you see _mother_?" He asks too quietly for either of them to hear. "Well, let's go then."

* * *

**A/N: I thought about ending it here, but I decided that would be mean.**

* * *

"Seriously, why are there so many draugr!?" Nekov shouts out in rage. If the shrine being in a cave wasn't bad enough, it was infested with undead.

The place looked like a Nordic ruin, so it wasn't all that surprising, but _mother_ would be furious when she found out. She was probably already pissed he took so long to find the place. To know that it was covered in undead would both be good and bad.

Good because they were ugly as fuck.

Bad because the floor was dirty.

"They aren't that bad." Ayem says, a smile on her face, "I mean did you want dremora instead?"

"The dremora wouldn't have attacked us if I told them not to." He mumbles, before stabbing a draugr in the skull with his own broken leg bone.

Allison had a sword out, a silver blade that was exactly what you'd expect a sword to look like, with Nekov's own little skull design etched into the pommel. He had given it to her when the draugr started popping up. Now using it to slash one's arm off, she turns to them both, "Less talking, more stabbing!"

Nekov and Ayem stop completely and stand up straight, before looking at each other and putting on identical savage grins. Both taking out an extra blade, they mow through the rest of the cave, untouched by the slow, unwieldy swings and stabs that draugrs have to attack with.

Now at the end of the tunnels, Nekov sheathes his blade before motioning for them to do the same. Drawing a deep breath, he pushes open the final door, and sets eyes on the shrine. In front of it is a stone table, with a large number of chairs placed around it.

"So the shrine here is for cannibals then." It was an easy thing to determine for him, the other shrines he'd seen before being sent to this realm either had a table or a gross approximation of a sacrifice altar, where people would eating other people or sacrifice things they thought attractive.

Usually it was both, the attractive people were sacrificed, then the leader would eat the dead body.

But the altar here looked to be part of the shrine, and unfit for much else, despite looking like it could've sufficed for sacrifices long ago. So the only worshippers Namira had here were cannibals. It took a practiced eye to know, but he was probably the most qualified.

"How so?" Ayem asks. Nekov explains the altar's purpose, and lack of use.

"Oh." Allison looks almost sick again.

"I ask that you leave the room, this is somewhat personal for me." Nekov states evenly, more quiet than usual.

"Alright, come on kid." Ayem turns and pushes Allison gently out the door, closing it behind her.

Taking another deep breath, Nekov walks to the shrine and pulls out a dagger. Cutting his palm and squeezing his hand, his blood drops onto the altar. The outlines of the edges of the shrine glow a sickly green.

"Hello mother." Nekov says politely.

"_**Hello… My son…"**_

* * *

A/N: Cliffhanger – Check

Evil laughter – Muhahahahahahahahahaha! Check


	6. Chapter 6

I've got nothing to say, so let's begin.

* * *

The avatar of a Daedra when summoned to Nirn isn't usually humanoid. It could be an animal, or some sort of creature, or Boethiah's favorite – a reincarnated sacrifice.

Namira's avatar was usually among the most disturbing.

However, without the need to keep up appearances in front of her followers, she didn't need the shock and awe factor of a decaying monster corpse.

Why would she need to do that in front of family?

No one knew this but Nekov, but Namira was exceptionally vain. She hated attractive things, but felt the need to make herself look good.

Hypocrite factor at One hundred percent.

Namira looked exactly like you'd think. That is, if you thought Namira looked like a pale, large breasted woman with wide hips and curly black hair. She had a green-white skin and stood at six feet tall, give or take a half-inch. She wore a floor length black robe that held snug against her body, and had spiders in her hair, a tribute to her closest sister – Mephala.

Odd, right? Apparently, they spoke frequently, and traded spiders. The whole situation confused the hell out of Nekov, but that's not why he came here.

"I'm here mother, I finally found it." He had spent years looking for any of her shrines, but they had all been destroyed some way or another. This was actually the last known shrine in Tamriel. It's why he was in Skyrim.

"**Yes. I see that." **A scowl finds its way to her face, with a narrowing of her entirely black eyes, and a frown upon her darkly shaded lips. **"What in Oblivion took so damn long! It's been twenty three years since I had to send you away! With so little influence on the world, you could have been long dead and I wouldn't have known!"** She sounded just as relieved as she did angry.

"I'm sorry I took so long. You of all people know the state of your shrines though, I spent fifteen years looking for one that had the strength to actually open a gate." His face brightened, "But it looks like you have a decent following here, they should return soon, I cleared out all the undead." He readied himself for the-

"**Undead! Why are there undead keeping my followers from my shrine!?" **She shouts, seemingly trying to vent two decades worth of pent up stress on anything she could. **"You didn't leave them lying on the ground, did you?" **She asks dangerously, daring him to say yes.

"…Maybe."

"…**Maybe?"**

"Kind of…"

"**You did, didn't you." **Nekov had a sudden interest in the ground. **"Damn it all! You left the floor dirty with something that wasn't blood!?" **

Namira was also a very selective clean freak.

"Draugr don't have blood-"

"**Then burn the corpses already!"**

"I would have, but I just wanted to get through them quickly so I could see you again!"

A tense silence followed before Namira physically stepped away from the shrine and walked over to Nekov. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she placed her arms around him and pulled him into a desperate embrace.

"**I know…" **Her obsidian eyes started to shine. **"I missed you so much, Nekov."**

Nekov's large frame made the Daedric Prince look small, being as tall as six foot, seven inches. His short black hair being the same color as hers and his skin only slightly tanned – but missing the green tone altogether. His arms swung wide and entrapped her body against his.

"I missed you too, mother."

* * *

After what seemed like ages - and could have been, considering neither of the participants were mortal – Nekov released his mother, who had actually cried for a good five minutes, and they sat at the large table in the center of the room.

"**So, how goes the plan?"** Namira asks, drying her eyes with her sleeve.

"I've made very little progress, the dragons actually flee the area when I come near. It makes no sense!" Nekov shouts, having got more and more frustrated as he spoke. The one thing his mother tells him to do and he can't do it because the _dragons _pussy out. "But I found a stone detailing their ancient burial sites in an old tomb, so I'll know where to look when I figure this out."

Namira laughed loudly, putting a hand on his shoulder, **"Only you would make dragons run in fear! Oh that's just great! Ha ha… Well, other than being very impressive, that isn't a good thing. The others are getting impatient; they want to ruin the Aedra's well laid plans soon. This isn't good at all…"**

Before Nekov was sent to Nirn as a child, the Daedric Lords and Princes all laid aside their standing conflicts, planning to ruin the line of the Dragonborn heroes. The mortals all saw the Dragonborn as a symbol of the divine's blessed champion.

Imagining the chaos that would ensue when the Hero was revealed as a villain, they just couldn't pass it up. Since none of them could do it personally, they looked for a viable candidate within their reach.

A child born to a Daedric Prince was unnatural in the extreme, so rubbing THAT in the face of the Aedra as well would be even better. So they sent Nekov, still immature in body – looking no older than five – to Nirn, despite Namira's violent protests. After reaching Skyrim, Nekov heard about the crisis happening with the return of the dragons, and sought to start his mission by testing if the Daedra even managed to reconstruct the ability to absorb dragon souls correctly. But none of them attacked him, and when he sought them out they flew high into the air to escape him.

"Do you know of a way to fix this?" He asked, if the dragons ran away, there would be no way to prove to these stubborn people that he was Dragonborn.

"**No, none of us ever predicted anything like this, the dragons are far outside any of our realms, save Dagon and Molag Bal."** This was unprecedented; dragons never ran from anything, even other dragons. They were extremely prideful, and would never run from a fight like this. **"It's almost impossible to have a dragon show respect, let alone fear. Even when one were to find themselves in Oblivion, the dragons would never do something like this." **She tilted her head in confusion and curiosity, **"Have they ever spoken to you? Even from a distance you should be able to understand them."**

"Only to call me an abomination or a monster," His face melted into a disturbing approximation of a smile, "but I got that from humans too." Namira smacked him lightly on the head, frowning at her son's obviously psychopathic tendencies and violent thoughts.

"**You better not be taking after Bal again, remember the last time you went to his realm?" **He did, quite vividly in fact. It was a month – in the Tamrielic calendar – before he was sent to Nirn. He had been visiting Coldharbour and was introduced to many different things. Torture, rape, and other acts of ill intent happened in all the shadowy corners of the palace that Molag Bal resided in.

"Yes, and it was an enlightening experience, but I don't torture or rape people." Nekov says with a pout, which sat awkwardly on his face, "Okay, maybe I do torture a few of my victims, but I find rape to be repulsive."

"**Please don't say that, the more you call it repulsive the more I'm forced to think about it."** People often described the things she had influence over with the term repulsive, it eventually became commonplace amongst her various descriptions. She had no problem with it, but whenever someone with a connection to Oblivion called something repulsive, she was forced to think about it, if only a little.

"Ah, right, right. Sorry." He apologized, the first time he'd done so since his time as a beggar child in Bruma. "Anyway, I've got people waiting outside that are probably getting suspicious." He looked away, a sad look in his eye and a frown on his face. "I'll be sure to visit whenever I can-"

"**I'm coming with you." **Namira states quickly, frowning at the thought of losing sight of her child for another indefinite amount of time.

"But how? Don't you have to stay in Oblivion?" Nekov asks, shocked at the idea of a Daedric Prince actually leaving Oblivion after Akatosh had closed off any ability to do so over two hundred years ago during what the mortals called the Oblivion Crisis.

Namira smiles sadly, **"That would be true for other Daedric Princes, and especially for the Lords, but I have so little influence left." **She sighs and shifts in her seat, **"This is the last of my shrines." **She states, looking back to the shrine and altar sitting at the back of the room. **"I can push the rest of what little remains of my power through there, and join you fully, here, in the mortal realm. The Aedra are too distracted fixing all the imbalances the mortals have created, and would pay little mind to a minor Prince, like myself or sister Mephala." **

"Truly?" Nekov chokes out, a hopeful whisper. His eyes wide, he watches his mother walk over to the shrine and place a hand upon its surface.

"**Come, I need someone to balance the push and pull to bring my power here, and cannot do it myself." **Nekov stands and walks quickly to the shrine, placing a hand over his mother's. The shrine begins to glow the same green it did when Namira first arrived, and he felt his energy being siphoned out of him in a steady, large stream of energy.

The shrine shined brightly and hummed with power, filling the room with light, before dimming almost instantly. Over his hand was a small, densely packed ball of light, easily making its contents obvious.

Namira's remaining power.

He'd seen things like this in the other Daedra's realms, most often wherever they stayed, a palace of some kind. But theirs were always at least three times this large. He remembered when his mother had that much power, it seemed so small now.

He could only imagine the dim light that Mephala would have, having no actual shrines remaining in Tamriel.

His mother quickly but gently plucked the orb out of the air, and held it to her chest, slowly pressing it through her skin. Once it had fully integrated, Namira seemed to glow for a moment, before the room truly had no more supernatural light remaining.

"**Even with this I can only do so much…" **Namira whispers, despairing over her lack of power. Her eyes grew misty once more and Nekov paled slightly, before placing his arms around her.

"Oi, bastard! How long you gonna make us wait!" Ayem shouts from behind the door.

Patting his mothers back to comfort her, he guided them over to the door. Opening it fully, he walked outside with a glare solidly placed in the assassin's direction, before stopping and standing taller than he had in years.

"Who's she?" Allison asks from the other side of the corridor.

"I'd like to introduce my mother," This got wide eyes from them both and Allison's skin paled, " Namira, the Daedric Prince of shadowy spirits, and the Mistress of Decay."

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry, but cliffhangers are fun no matter how small

So how'd like that one, Daedric plots and a family reunion. I liked it, but I wouldn't write it if I didn't like it, so let me know what _you _guys think in a review.


	7. Chapter 7

So, Just in case you guys wanna laugh at my misfortune, I couldn't sleep. I woke up at 2:30 AM and it's around 3 right now.

You're lucky I like you and this story enough to start so early.

Anyway, I feel like I need to clear something up for you, because JohnyS is wondering how Nekov thinks rape is repulsive. There are two reasons. A.) I wanted to get the connection between 'repulsive' and Namira in so it wouldn't confuse anyone later. B.) I hate rape, I will never write a long-standing character who does it. Besides, he was talking to his MOTHER. Someone tell me what mother wouldn't care about that stuff. It's relation to torture aside, it isn't something his Daedric Prince of a mother would allow to take root.

So I probably won't ever be bringing this topic up again until we meet Molag Bal and Serana. Which won't be at the same time and I've got some less than good ideas about it.

I also went about fixing that singular mistake that you pointed out in the 'tense'

Sorry about the long A/N, enjoy the chapter.

* * *

"So, tell me again, why are we going Karthwasten?"

After having to explain the fact that his mother is, in fact, a Daedric Prince, and that, yes, this is why he was in a rush getting to the shrine, Nekov had let Ayem lead their group out and away. Until his mother could fix the cowardly dragons somehow, he really didn't have anything to do.

So somehow they ended up going to some tiny, out-of-the-way back woods village that was far into the mountains of the Reach.

Nekov was not amused.

"We're going there because I'm an assassin, I kill people." Ayem stated, "Besides, _mommy _told me to." A jester's grin appears on her face, "And you of all people should understand why you should listen to your mother."

Namira turns to them, "Actually, he never disobeyed, it's always a good general practice to listen to a Daedra, you know." She smirks.

"Oh, so you're a mama's boy!" Ayem started laughing, prompting a sour look and a glare from Nekov, "But wait, how did a Daedric Prince even have a child in the first place?" Her laughter stopping quickly.

"It's a long story," Namira stated, "if we had more time I might tell you-"

"We've got plenty of time!" Ayem exclaimed exuberantly, "I really wanna know how something like this even happens."

"Well it wasn't what mortals would call natural."

"Soooooo…"

"I spent over a hundred years changing the inside of my own body, as well as manipulating many different kinds of energies. The result is what you see here." She said proudly, gesturing to Nekov.

"So it was some kind of magic?"

"No, no. Mortal magic could never replicate what I did. And I'm almost certain I couldn't do it a second time, it was extremely complicated." Her voice still filled with pride, "It's not like creating another, lesser Daedric Prince who shares my influence is easy after all." She stated, shocking everyone, and getting them all to stop walking.

"Wait, so I'm actually a Daedric Prince?" Nekov asked unsurely, his face pale.

"Not quite, but over time you would be able to do things like this." She moves to a tree on the side of the path. Placing a hand on it, the tree begins to rot, spreading from her hand. Not ten seconds later, the tree collapses.

"…Nekov, your mother is scary." Ayem said evenly, moving behind him and away from Namira.

"What else does it work on?" Asked Nekov.

"Animals, wood, plants… people." She finishes with a dangerous looking grin, and an excited look in her eye.

That look being matched by Nekov, scaring Ayem, who squeaks like a mouse and ducks down behind Allison, who's more interested than anything.

They continue walking.

* * *

Once in Karthwasten, the group split up, Ayem to find her target, Nekov and his mother to catch up, and Allison to talk to the people.

"Oi, old man, you know a girl name Fjotra!?" Ayem shouted, jogging up to what looked to be the village leader, a man in expensive looking brown robes.

"I-I don't want to talk about that… ask the girl's father if you must."

"Ah, alright…?" That didn't sound good. What would a little girl do to get that treatment?

After being directed to Enmon, a miner who was also Fjotra's father, she learned that the forsworn had raided the town only days before, and had only taken his daughter when they left. The man had started crying and wouldn't say anything else other than which of the redoubts she was probably taken to.

After explaining the contract to Nekov, and planning to meet them in Markarth, Ayem left the group behind.

* * *

Heading to Broken Tower Redoubt, she prepared herself for combat. The forsworn were idiots, but they weren't just going to let her take the girl, to kill her or not.

"Hehehehe." If sanity was based off of facial expressions, Ayem would probably be one hundred percent insane.

The grin is just that fucking creepy.

"Hey! Who the fuck are you!?" Victim number one yells from down the road, pulling out his makeshift sword.

"Get her!" Victim number two shouts to the guys standing outside the ruined fortress.

"Hey…" Ayem starts, tilting her head "…Would slaughtering rabid animals make me a bad person?" She finishes, the sick and twisted grin firmly planted on her face, threatening to split it in half, her eyes wide and darting from person to person.

Victim number one runs forward, his sword hung low at his side. Before he could swing, Ayem appears in front of him, moving so fast it looks as if she had teleported.

And then she stabbed him once.

Twice.

Three times.

And the rest of the forsworn were stopped in their tracks, watching their comrade be mutilated and turned to nothing but chunks of meat, blood covering every inch of skin.

Ayem brings the Blade of Woe up to her face, and cleans the blood off with her tongue, ignoring the stunned enemies in front of her.

"Ah…" She shivers in delight, before looking up, blood running from her mouth, and smiling.

"More please."

* * *

"Why do I get the feeling that letting her go off alone was a bad idea?" Nekov turns to his mother, "It was, wasn't it? I saw Uncle Sheo written all over that face she had when she left."

"I saw it too, but don't worry about that for now. We have plenty of time to organize another tea party with your uncle later." Namira states, entirely unworried over the fact that they left a probable murderous psychopath alone.

"Oh, well that'll be fun." Nekov says, a pleasant smile sliding onto his face. "I wonder how he's doing, having transferred into that mortal. It's not every day that happens. I'd wonder what the Hero of Kvatch was thinking then, but it really doesn't matter all that much now."

They had made the trip to Markarth in only a couple hours, and Namira had insisted that Nekov spend some time showing her around. And so, the three of them – including Allison – had been walking around the city for the past hour.

"Hey, can I have some gold?" Allison asks, a look in her eye that made shivers run down Nekov's spine.

"What for?" He asks.

"I want new clothes." The shiver returns, and Namira smiles.

"Of course you can, dear." Turning to her son, "Why don't we all go? I'm sure whatever you're wearing under that horrible cloak has no place in any casual setting." Pulling at his cloak, she takes it swiftly, revealing a set of armor.

But it wasn't any normal looking armor. It didn't have any large steel plates or unwieldy pauldrons, having only a chestplate and gauntlets, which were colored a dull grey. The chestplate was closer to a vest than anything, and the gauntlets ran up the entirety of his forearm, with the backs extending past the elbow*. He was wearing matte black clothing underneath, with boots that had similar plating on the shins.

"Well, it's better than I thought. But it doesn't look like something you could wear around without getting some strange looks." Namira was impressed, these were definitely made by Nekov himself, as no smith would make something like this.

Most of these mortals probably thought that more steel means better armor.

More steel slows you down. Ask the adventurers whose souls were stuck in Oblivion. All of them wore some sort of heavy plate armor.

Taking his cloak back and fixing it back around his shoulders, Nekov gave his mother a sour look. "That's why I wear a cloak in the first place. No one looks at the guy in a cloak, it is well known that the people who do get a knife in the back." With a smirk, "The guards don't even care, because it's their fault that they looked. I have a reputation that precedes me and I will make work to my benefit." His mother scoffs.

"You boys and your knives, I knew I shouldn't have let you in Malacath's forge when you were little." She lets out a chuckle, "He still sends them to me, you know, those knives he sent you every year. He expected me to keep them until this Dragonborn business is done."

"And did you?"

"Of course."

* * *

Ayem was hunched over the bloodied corpse of the ritual master that stood in the final room, the briar heart in hand.

"So…" She looks to the frightened little girl in a cell at the end of the room, "You're Fjotra, huh."

A mirthless laugh, and the sound of steel piercing flesh echoed throughout the entire bloody fortress.

* * *

A/N: Absolutely marvelous. Hope you guys enjoy sadism and insanity, there's gonna be quite a bit when killing happens.

*Picture something like the ANBU uniform from the anime Naruto.


	8. Chapter 8

Took a day and a half off, sorry for lack of content. On a related note, I probably won't be putting up two chapters every day, nor will every day of the week have a chapter. I'm in high school and am on summer break, so my sleep schedule is basically whatever, therefore my updates are based on both my level of tiredness and my interest at the time.

Worry not, the story will be updated frequently, and will not be abandoned under any circumstances.

Spoiler warning, kinda - To answer Hellfire, who asked about the 'Hero' Dragonborn, I have a lot planned for them, but yes, it would be awkward. Don't guess or you might get it right, because it's not hard to imagine what I have planned.

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as you seemed to enjoy the others.

* * *

"Seriously…"

"Yes."

"Why…"

"He looked lonely."

Nekov's eyes narrowed and he scowled, "Why the hell did you bring back a mudcrab from an assassination contract?" He shifted to his other foot, "How the hell did you domesticate one anyway?"

"Because I'm awesome?" Ayem lets out awkwardly.

"No."

"Whaddya mean 'No'? Why can't I be awesome?" She whines with a pout.

"No."

"You suck. You really, really suck. Ya know that?"

"No."

"Sithis help me."

"Oh, she's back." Allison states, over to them with Namira.

"See, she doesn't care about the mudcrab."

"No, I just kind of expected worse, so this is less of a shock than what I was preparing myself for."

"Gah!" Ayem frowns, "What the hell _were _you expecting?"

"Dead bodies… and lots of blood." Allison adopts a thoughtful expression, then looks back, "And sex slaves."

"Well there were- Wait sex slaves! What the hell!" The mudcrab scitters away, pinching it's claws.

"You just look the sort." She reasons.

"I do not 'look the sort'! How did you ever come to that!?"

"The way you stare at him sometimes." Allison says, pointing to Nekov, who promptly backs away from the assassin.

"I do not stare at him!" She pauses for a moment, "Okay, maybe that one time after fighting the forsworn, but that's it."

"Whatever you say, deviant."

"Gah!"

A giggle interrupts them, getting them both to turn. The giggle evolves into full-blown laughter when Namira sees Ayem's tomato red face.

"Cut it out, we need to see this contractor." Nekov, ever the ladies' man

Having entered the inn, the four of them take a seat at the bar. Ayem, taking extra care to catch more attention, orders them all drinks.

Loudly.

"Shut up!"

"Quiet down!"

Nekov smirks and tends to his drink, an observing eye constantly shifting.

"You know you grab a lot of attention when you walk in like that, it might attract the wrong kinda people if you're not careful." Someone says from behind them, his amusement carrying over his voice.

Ayem turns, eyeing the man carefully, "And? I could kill everyone in here and walk out of the city without a sideways look." She shifts on her stool, turning to completely face him, "What makes you think I care about some random chump who thinks I'm too loud?"

"I'd rather not draw too much attention to myself, assassin." His voice a whisper.

"So you're Felix then?"

"Yes, now come with me."

"Alright, let's go chumps." Ayem downs the rest of her drink and moves towards the door.

"What are you doing!" Felix hisses.

"What?"

"You cannot bring this many people."

"Why not?"

"Because it would draw too much attention."

Nekov growls, "If you're so worried about getting the attention of others," His hands light up in magic, which pulses over them all, making them invisible. "There."

"Fine. Follow me then." The door opens, and Nekov grabs Allison's shoulder, guiding her after the others.

After a short walk, Felix pauses at a door on the first level of the city, the only one in the area. "In here, quickly." Everyone files in just as the magic wears off.

The interior of the house is what anyone would expect, a table, a fireplace and a bed. More tables and shelves spread around against the wall. There were three other people in the room, all wearing dark blue hooded robes.

"Alright, so where's my payment?"

Felix motions to a table by the door, which had two, rather large, bags of gold. "Take them and lea- Agh!"

Felix and the three hooded men all fall to the ground holding their heads as a vile wave of power explodes from somewhere under the room. Namira facepalms, and Nekov grins.

"Bring them- Why- No I don't question you Lord- No- Agh!" Felix flinches on the ground, before letting out a shaky breath and standing up.

"Come." He says to the four and follows the three robed men further into the house.

"What's going on?" Allison asks unsurely.

"Our great Lord has deigned to meet you personally, be grateful for the opportunity."

"Our great lord he says, Uncle sure has gotten a big head recently." Nekov says to his mother.

"Recently? He's always been quite full of himself. You just couldn't see it because you were too busy playing with his toys."

"Some of those toys took a bit of working to break, I actually had to sharpen the knife I was using four times before I finished them all."

"While I'd hate to interrupt this pleasant conversation, do either of you understand what's going on?" Ayem asks.

"We've been noticed by my brother, apparently." Namira says evenly, fighting with a frown.

"Wait, wait, wait. Your brother? Daedric Princes have brothers?"

"Most of the Daedra consider themselves related, you know."

"Wait so we're going to talk with a Daedric Prince!?"

"One of the more powerful ones, Molag Bal."

Allison pales, and moves behind Nekov. Ayem sighs.

"I almost regret coming with you guys, all of this is just too much." She grins, "But it wouldn't be so interesting if I hadn't."

"We're here." Felix says from in front of them.

"**Yes, now leave us, slave."**

"Of course, my Lord." Felix replies, retreating back down the passageway.

"**Hello sister."**

"Have you taken up Boethiah's preferred way of communication?"

Molag Bal's voice had been coming from one of the hooded men. The man had a hole in his chest, the size of a fist. Red eyes glowed from under his hood.

"**Of course not. The mortal isn't dead yet." **He states rather matter-of-factly.

"But he'll die when you release him, it's almost the same."

"**I'm not quite as dumb as you think, sister. I know of the low number of worshippers here. I would not throw one away so callously."**

"Would you be this careful if there were more of them?"

"**Perhaps not. But this shrine is important, being in an actual city. From here I have much more influence over the mortals than I would from the wilderness, where the others seem to like having their worshippers settle." **The altar at the end of the tunnel glows ominously, providing the group a clear look.

It was small, but intimidating. With sharp spikes and thorns pointing away from the body of it, which held a basin filled with blood. A mace floated over the basin, spinning clockwise sedately. The mace itself had more the shape of a club, just covered in thick spikes and thorns. It had a design unique to Molag Bal's artifact on it, a demonic face looking outwards from its pommel.

"**So, how goes the mission?" **

Nekov steps up to the altar, the sour look on his face more pronounced than usual.

"It goes poorly. The dragons have returned as I'm sure you know, but they run at the sight of me." He sighs, "I will not be able to convince the mortals that I am Dragonborn if I cannot show them a dragon having its soul taken."

Molag Bal is quiet for a moment, before laughing loudly, **"Scaring off dragons! That's great, ha ha! Only you Nekov, only you!"** His laughter settles. **"But this isn't good. The mortals will not believe your claims without a demonstration, for sure. On the assumption that you don't have a solution, and that sister is there for that very reason, I'll look into it personally. This is very important, and the others are getting restless."**

"I've told him that already." Namira says from behind Nekov.

"**Yes, well, until I can get an answer, I'd like you to look into something."**

"What is it?" Nekov asks.

"**One of my more fanatical followers, a pureblooded vampire that I created thousands of years ago, has started delving into ways to block out the sun. The fool believes that it will help the vampires, when it will only kill off the mortals and leave them blood-starved. I need you convince him away from this. His survival is optional."**

"I'll do it. How should I find him?"

"**Look to the north, a castle on the water off the frozen coasts. If you cannot gain entry there, find a group of vampire hunters called the Dawnguard, lead them onto his trail. After this is done, find the artifact he seeks and bring it to one of my shrines. It is powerful, and is connected to Akatosh. I want to corrupt it."**

"Alright. Does this vampire belong to a clan?"

"**Yes, the Volkihar."**

* * *

A/N: Bet you guys didn't think I'd be starting with Dawnguard. I'll be moving through **ALL** the factions in the future, in some way or another. But I'd like to start with this one so we can get out next party member on board. Serana isn't going to be quite how you might remember her.

Fair warning. Caution ahead. The bloodthirsty-ness will only increase. And characters will be reshaped as if made with clay. None are safe. Even the freaks like Septimus or Cicero won't be left alone.

I'd also like to apologize for the overwhelming amount of dialogue, hopefully it was interesting enough to keep you from falling asleep. The next chapter will have significantly less, probably.


	9. Chapter 9

I slept way too much yesterday.

I think I'm addicted

Warning : I'm taking some seriously creative – strange – liberties in changing how the Daedra act, if you couldn't already guess. It comes up in a weird way this chapter.

Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

"So we're supposed to just go north?" Ayem tilts her head, "That's a bit vague. Don't ya think?"

Nekov brushes past her, completely ignoring the question. Ayem jogs ahead of him and starts walking backwards to match his pace.

"Hello? Are you gonna answer me? Huh, bastard? Come on."

"I know where we're going. So shut up."

"Nope. I'm not gonna shut up just because you say so. Gotta give me a reason."

Allison and Namira both shake their heads.

* * *

The mountains quickly grew cold once they left the Reach, a constant chill settling over them.

After a couple of hours, they came up Dragon Bridge, a town directly south of the province's capital, Solitude. The town was bigger than Karthwasten, but only by a small margin. It had exactly six buildings, none of them any bigger than average. The largest of these was the inn, where the group had decided to stay for the night.

"It's ten septims a night, and that's per person." The innkeeper says, a wary eye on all of them.

"Here," Nekov replies shortly, "expect no trouble from us."

"I'll believe it when I see it." He says offhandedly, counting the coin.

Nekov walks past the fire to the table that the others were situated around. Sitting down and letting out a sigh, he grabs the bottle of mead Ayem was reaching for and downs the whole thing, ignoring her cries of outrage.

"We're leaving first thing in the morning, don't stay up." He says to them all, before standing back up and disappearing into his room.

"Geez, what pissed him off?"

Namira smiles knowingly, before standing. "You'll probably find out tomorrow."

* * *

The murder squad (I'm sorry, that just popped up) left early the next morning. Setting a brisk pace, Nekov marched at the front with his ever-present sour look on his face. It certainly didn't help his mood that a fog thick enough to cut had set over them almost immediately outside Dragon's Bridge. The entire group had settled for silence, deterred away from conversation by the palpable tension pouring out of their leader.

And only a half-hour later, the fog suddenly stopped, as if a wall had been put up. Looking up in sudden dread, Nekov spotted something he had sensed after entering town, and had been fearing since then.

A statue.

One obviously dedicated to Meridia.

"Oh no."

Namira didn't smile sadistically, not at all. If you asked she'd deny it. If you said you saw it she'd probably try to kill you. A mother does NOT smile sadistically at their son's misfortune, it just doesn't happen. However, that didn't stop her from grabbing her son's arm and pulling him forcefully up the hill.

Towards the statue.

"Mother, you don't want to do this. You know you don't want to do this." Nekov's face was getting paler as they walked, his voice almost breaking monotone.

"Why would that be son?" She asks with an entirely _non-sadistic_ smile.

"You know what she's going to do!" He hisses, looking positively terrified for once.

"I have no clue what it is you're talking about."

"LIES!"

"Why Nekov, you don't honestly believe that do you?" That smile is just the worst.

By now he had given up on talking and was actually clawing at the seemingly ironclad grip his mother had on his arm.

His mother continued, "What exactly should I not want to do?" That smile…

He slumped, not giving an answer and giving up on escaping. Finally making it to the top of the hill, and to the base of the statue, Nekov just stared ahead as if awaiting death. Ayem and Allison looked positively confused, not quite understanding what made their fearless leader so desolate. Pushing her son forward harshly, Namira joined them at the stairs.

A statue to Meridia is usually in the form of a woman wearing a hooded robe, sporting wings that spanned the height of the whole thing. Nekov could only chuckle softly at the inaccuracy. This particular statue had one of her beacons, which meant a direct connection. Which could only mean that she'd sense him in-

"Nekov!" An almost high-pitched voice shouts excitedly from what seemed like thin air. The man in question felt a strange pull on his body, as if-

"Shit." He says, before shooting into the sky like a bolt from a crossbow.

Namira does, in fact, smile sadistically at her son's misfortune.

* * *

"Well, at least the view is pleasant."

"Always the optimist Nekov."

"No, that's you." He turns to the ghostly apparition of a girl that looked only a bit older than Allison. "Acting so young despite being among the oldest beings in existence."

She pouts, "Don't be like that."

"Don't act so carefree."

"But it's fun!"

A sigh. "You are supposed to be respectable, feared even. Doing this lessens the chance immeasurably."

"As if I'd let mortals see me like this." She had taken the form of an almost twenty year-old. Her form was tall, but not unreasonably so, with hair that was cut unevenly and ended at her lower back. She was wearing something that didn't belong on the continent they were on, being an Akaviri-looking kimono. Despite the obvious attention she spent on forming the look, the colors were all but non-existent because of the ghostly form of projection she used.

"At least you understand that much."

"When are you gonna stop talking down to me!"

"When you get off of me."

She had been hanging on his shoulders ever since springing him a mile and a half into the air. It was getting on his nerves.

"Nuh uh."

"Now you're just being childish."

"So."

"So get off me."

"Nope."

"…Now I understand how annoying that is."

"What?"

"Whenever I don't feel like doing something or answering someone I say exactly what you just did." He pouts, not needing to hide his expressions around family. "It's really annoying."

"Ah… Anyway, how's it that sister is with you?"

"She only had one shrine, and a negligent power level. Forcing her way into the mortal world wasn't very hard."

"That's kinda sad, I feel bad for her now."

"It'll be fixed soon, I won't go back to Oblivion until I get her more followers, since I can't just start up a massive infestation for her to draw power from."

"I suppose that's only right." She turns his head to look her in the face, "Don't take too long though, ever since you left everyone's just got more and more stuffy. It's even worse cause Sheo's on vacation."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, he left Oblivion to go to the mortal world. Said it was for vacation or something."

"How did he get through the Aedra?"

"Cheese. Lots and lots. It was absolute chaos for an entire week."

"How does that work?"

"He flooded Aetherius with cheese somehow. It confused the hell out of me, but he managed to distract them long enough with it." She pouts, "Now I wish he took me with him, I'm so bored nowadays."

"A shame, truly."

"Isn't it?"

"That was sarcasm."

"Oh, so you've picked up some things from the mortals." She smiled cheekily, "Guess I can't trick you with that now."

Another sigh. "Can you put me back down now?"

"You just got here!"

"I am in the middle of something."

"No, I don't wanna!"

"Now you really are being childish." She stuck out her tongue.

"You can't make me do it, so I won't."

"If I promise to come back later will you do it?"

"Nope."

"If I promise to find Uncle Sheo and convince him to go back to Oblivion will you do it?"

"Maybe."

Another sigh.

"...Give me five more minutes," She spoke solemnly, her embrace tightening, "I don't know how bad it was for your mother but I know I missed you more than anyone else."

"Alright."

* * *

Once Nekov was back on the ground, the group set off again. Deciding to stop in Solitude after finding a boat to take them around the coast, they headed up the path. After another half-hour, the path split, one path up past the walls and into the city, and the other down under the arch it was settled on. Taking the latter, they continued down to the wooden walkways that made up the Solitude Docks. Two ships were in port with another, smaller boat that was definitely only for passengers. One of the ships was offloading cargo into a warehouse down at the other end of the docks.

Walking up to a man who seemed to be the owner of the passenger boat, Nekov pulled out a large bag of coins.

"I need a boat to transport me and three others around the coast, will you do it?"

Looking at the bag of coin, the man nodded dumbly, and reached for the bag. Nekov pulled it back sharply.

"Not yet, we'll be leaving in the morning. Just stay here until then and I'll give you more than this."

"Deal."

* * *

The Winking Skeever was probably the cleanest and most reputable of the many inns and taverns in Skyrim. Being the only one in the capital of the whole province, it was pretty much expected. But the innkeeper went above and beyond to provide extra quality rooms and service. It also helped that the bard there was one of the best, a soft voice that was welcome among the many not-so-talented bards a traveler would find around the holds. But that was also expected, considering the fact that the bard's college was in Solitude. The place stood up to a high standard.

It did nothing to keep Nekov from facepalming almost five feet in the door.

"Mother…"

She had also palmed her face, "Yes, I noticed as well."

"What?" Allison asks, the first thing she's said ever since their last stop.

"Ugh… Why did we run into so many so quickly? I blame you, mother."

"What are you guys talking about?" Ayem was also curious.

A sigh. Seems to run in the family, because this was Namira, "It's just…"

"Just what!?"

Nekov looks to the assassin with annoyance.

"My uncle, Sheogorath."

* * *

A/N: So yeah, I might as well stab myself in the foot. I'm really sorry about the delays the past couple days.

I might as well get it out of the way and categorize how the Daedra we've met feel about our cloaked hero.

Namira – His mother, loves him unconditionally and would probably set out on the world to kill all the humans if he was killed somehow.

Molag Bal – His "uncle", He acts like the family friend or distant relative you meet every once in awhile who gets you into strange, cool or dangerous/bad things. He's on very good terms with Nekov, but is also a little distant.

Meridia – His "aunt" technically, acts like a teasing older sister and a flirty best friend to him and pretty much loves him.

Sheogorath – His "uncle", we haven't met him yet but by the way they talked about him a couple chapters ago, you can kinda guess. If not, he's almost exactly what you'd expect an insane family member to be.

I'm also going to explain how the Daedra get their power in this story. They have a lot of power if they need it – all of them – but accessing it would alert the Aedra and most magic sensitive mortals. Therefore, they don't use their "God Power". They, instead, use the power they gain from mortal worshippers, and the presence of what they're connected to. Namira's power is so low because she has only one shrine that has a low number of people actively worshipping her at it, and because there is no large amount of cannibalism and the creatures related to her are commonly killed off as pests. She'll be stronger in places with a lot of corpses, including long battles. So a large battlefield or a crypt would be somewhere beneficial to her. So she'll be more useful in combat in the underground tombs that seem to pop up every five feet in Skyrim. Also, feeding on dead bodies would increase her strength semi-permanently.

*sigh* So many words in an AN, shame on me. Anyway, I'll try to put up a chapter later today or tomorrow. Promise.

Signing off~


	10. Chapter 10

This chapter is most likely going to be one of my personal favorites. Sheo is such a character.

Enjoy.

* * *

One can only facepalm a certain amount of times before hurting themselves.

Nekov is about to break his own nose.

Turns out Sheogorath decided to vacation in Solitude. More specifically, the Blue Palace. Even more specifically, he decided to vacation inside the skull of the dead, insane emperor, Pelagius the Third. Whose body was apparently kept in an abandoned wing of the palace which was kept under lock and key.

Nekov decided he was not having a very good day.

After arguing with the wife of the now dead High King, he had managed to gain entry to the wing under the guise of checking for lingering spirits.

Who knew the Jarl was so afraid of ghosts?

Apparently Uncle Sheo knew, because there were actually ghosts all over the place. All of which were insane.

"Where the hell are my cabbages!?"

"Who cares, I want sweet rolls!"

"The invasion is starting! Prepare the couch for anal penetration!"

Nekov turns to the door, walks calmly up to it, and kicks it down along with a full five feet of the adjacent wall.

Turns out the room behind the door was no longer the palace stairway...

Whatever it was, it was filled to brim with cheese.

Smiling politely to the cheese, Nekov turns back to the crowd of now silent ghosts…

And displays hell to them, free of charge.

The three women of the group had been observing, and now were having trouble deciding between laughing or just ignoring the whole scene. The steam that seemed to appear over the raging man's head made the decision for them however, and they just followed him up the almost ruined stairs.

Gliding down the corridor with unwarranted speed, Nekov fell face first onto the hard, wooden floors.

"Nekov-!"

* * *

"What the hell just happened."

This was a very tame reaction. Most people wouldn't calmly examine their situation when suddenly teleporting from a worn down room to a fog shrouded forest filled with both dead and living trees. However, suddenly being somewhere entirely different than two seconds beforehand was not a strange occurrence to Nekov.

Do with that what you will.

"Okay, so this must be the mind of the dead emperor." He states, a strange ghostly apparition of a large-breasted maid with a broom chasing a small child with obvious murderous intent passing in front of him.

"…Onwards, I guess." And so he walked.

And walked.

And walked.

Before realizing that the ground under him was moving to counter his forward motion, keeping him in the exact same place as he started in.

"Damn it Uncle Sheo." And so he sat, waiting for something.

It honestly wasn't the best idea, in retrospect.

A noise not unlike an explosion sounded off from his left, and a flaming obje-

Was that cheese?

A flaming cheese wheel shot by him at nearly the speed of sound, followed by identical cheese wheels all moving at the same speed, all bigger than his torso.

At least he could move again.

Nekov dodged many, many wheels of cheese for exactly one minute before the last cheese wheel shot under him, almost brushing his man bits. Much to his relief, no damage was done. Some bushes rustled behind him, causing him to twist around quickly.

"Ah Nekov me boy, good to see ya!" The man in a red and purple outfit looked to the numerous piles of splattered, flaming cheese. "Hope ya liked the welcoming party, they were oh so eager to meet ya."

"Hello Uncle."

The mad god bashed him upside the head with a barrel, which shattered on impact.

Wait, where the hell did that barrel come from?

"Didn't I tell ya not to greet me so politely!" He shouted not unkindly.

"Sorry, uncle."

"Never mind it, how's your mission going?"

"Poorly."

"A shame, why's it happening?"

"The dragons are running from me."

"Now that's impressive!"

"What, you can't get dragons to run from you?"

"No, I tried once, didn't work. Let's just say there's a dragon somewhere in Dementia that doesn't have scales or claws anymore and leave it at that."

"You left a dragon alive in Dementia?"

"I don't see why not! He's wonderful fellow once you get past the trying to kill you part. It's a shame no one really lives that long."

A sigh.

"Don't sigh at me boy! Your mother does that enough. I swear it sucks the life outta me when ya do that."

It's not very well documented, but Namira and by extension, Nekov, can, in fact, kill someone with their breath.

"Speaking of your mother, how's she doing? I noticed she left Oblivion."

"She's fine."

"Good, good."

"Meridia wants you to return home."

"Does she now? I suppose she would get bored without me there, everyone's got a bit more stuck up without you."

"She told me that too."

"Well, I'd be glad to return, but I need some help rearranging the inside of this man's mind. Something about letting the dead rest and all that."

"…Ok, what do you need me to do?"

"Take my Wabbajack!"

"…Uncle, the last time you said that I ended up grabbing a dead whore's leg, which then turned into a live whale."

"Ah, right, that did happen. Well I assure you nothing too dramatic will happen."

Nekov grabs the staff which had appeared out of nowhere and was just floating a foot off the ground.

And as soon as his hand wraps around the staff fully, he shrinks.

Or, rather, shrink isn't quite right. He did shrink, losing a few inches, but also felt so many different things happen to him at once that he couldn't identify the actual problem.

"Oh well now that might be a _small_ problem." Sheogorath says, not sounding at all sorry for whatever unnatural thing just happened.

"What just- My voice!" Our protagonist's voice had indeed changed, to what one might assume Nekov would sound like as a woman, which happened to be true at the moment.

"Might have a few side effects, including but not limited to – Death, diarrhea, bleeding from the eyes, nose or mouth, numbness, dizziness, involuntary drunken-ness, anal penetration, a full body transformation into a rabbit, chicken, or dremora, and gender bending." Sheo states, sounding for all the world like a doctor.

"…Uncle, how many death threats do you have from me?"

"Two thousand four hundred and thirty seven."

"Make it thirty eight."

"Noted. Now, hop to it! I'd like to have a parade soon, and I can't do that here." The mad god looked thoughtful, "Perhaps we could decapitate the dancers…"

* * *

"So, uh, what do we do now?" Ayem asks

"We wait." Namira states quietly, Nekov's head situated in her lap.

"That's it? Just wait for something to happen?"

"Yes. Sheogorath tends to be more… eccentric than the others, the fact that Nekov's body stayed behind only proves his theory about him being in Pelagius' head."

"Alright… So what's there to do in an abandoned wing of a palace."

"I haven't the slightest clue."

* * *

Breathing heavily, Nekov – still in his female form – jogged up to the table at which Sheogorath was sat.

"It's done. I've fixed his head."

"Ah yes, I can see that."

"Can you fix this?" Nekov asks, gesturing to his gender bent body.

"It doesn't need to be fixed, you're not actually here. It's just a representation of your consciousness.

"So there won't be any consequences from just leaving it?"

"You might feel a wee bit less manly, but that's not all that important. Anyway, I've got a parade to start so I'll see you when all this Dragonborn business is done. Have fun!" And the Mad God disappears.

"Have fun? Why do I get the feeling that something bad is going to happen soon because I sent him back? Oh well." And our hero disappeared too.

* * *

A/N: This was mostly for fun. But you have to admit it was kinda funny… right?

Sheo isn't just gonna disappear either, starting soon he'll be interrupting our journey with unexpected surprises. The first one is big for sure. But he won't be helping in the dangerous situations, so don't worry about someone just turning into a chicken in the heat of battle.

I really wanna see that now.

UPDATE: I've got very little new reviews as well as a lack of proper ideas for this story. It's not being abandoned but expect chapters to come in much less often. A chapter a week at least, three at max. On the bright side, this means that the new chapters will probably be longer, if only by a little. It mainly depends on my inspiration, as well as you guys actually communicating your opinions. It's difficult to write for an audience I can only tell exists by looking at the views.

Signing off~


	11. Chapter 11

Something is going to happen this chapter that will make you worry about how overpowered the group will be. Don't worry, no matter who goes with Nekov, they'll never be TOO powerful. It's more like shoving a level 30 into the beginning of the game. Eventually, things will scale up to be more difficult. Draugr deathlords, Legendary dragons, and all those other wonderfully powerful things that suck to fight on legendary difficulty will pop up.

I'm adding people for the sake of adding personality. And for you people who're worried about it, there will be male additions to the group.

For the sake of my own fleeting popularity, I want to ask you guys to choose which side of the war they're on. I won't be starting a poll, so PM me if you really want to see one side over the other. Give a good reason too. And if no one cares, I have a plan for it already. I just want to see if you have any overwhelmingly good points to make for one side or the other.

Personally, I don't like Ulfric. I like what he fights for, but the politics and manipulations behind the war just make me think both sides are equally wrong. Get rid of the Empire and you make Skyrim an easy target. Reunify Skyrim under the Empire, give the Thalmor free reign over Skyrim to weaken it for later. Both are wrong and the Thalmor suck.

Sorry for the long A/N. Enjoy.

* * *

Transitioning back into reality isn't fun. Especially when you've been prone on a wooden floor for who knows how long. Never mind the phantom feelings of being the wrong gender.

"Ugh… What the hell."

"Language!"

"Mother, I'm sorry, but shut up."

"Excuse me!?"

"I don't want to explain. I'm going to sleep." And our cannibalistic hero was out.

* * *

"This… Really?" Apparently not quite "out" as he wanted to be.

"What?"

"Vaermina, why did you bring me here?"

"Sheogorath told me where you were. I was able to bring your consciousness here, while you sleep."

"That's how, not why."

"The why, little one, is because things have been so boring recently. I missed you and the difference you made in my brothers and sisters."

"You brought me here because you're bored."

"You missed the other half."

"Right, right. But being bored was part of it and was also what you mentioned first." He sighed, "Though I suppose I should expect no less from one who steals memories to amuse herself."

"Now that's just mean." Her pale face shifted into a pout, "Why are you being so rude?"

"Because I just had a _visit _with Uncle Sheo and I am very tired. It also doesn't help that what you're wearing is almost hurting my eyes."

Vaermina wore a shockingly bright robe. It changed color every time she shifted even slightly, flashing bright shades of almost every color. It contrasted with her long black hair, and looked a bit odd on her extremely pale skin. She narrowed her deep purple eyes at him.

"What problem do you have with what I'm wearing!?"

"It's too bright."

"So!"

A sigh, "Never mind, I'm going to sleep."

"What!?"

"Quiet," He says, laying down on the stone floor of Vaermina's "control room", "I'm trying to sleep."

"You can't sleep here because your body is already asleep in the mortal world." She states.

"Doesn't stop me from trying." And so he slept in his sleep… however that works.

* * *

Outside the gates of Solitude, the guards were slacking as they often do. Normally this consists of games that can be played without being obvious. If the games were obvious they would be caught by the taskmaster guard captain who spent his entire life on the wall above the inner gates. However, the early morning gate guards had no such games because the guard captain spent the first couple morning hours above the outer gate, which put them in his sights were he to turn away from the road. The poor guards on gate duty today were named Marcus and Garret.

"So whaddya think the captain shoved up his arse today?"

"Shut up."

"I think it's his sword, I didn't see it on him when he walked out."

"Shut up."

"You're just a barrel o' fun this morning, aren't ya."

"I'm reading, you prick."

"Yeah, yeah."

Of course, not having a game to play under the captain's nose didn't mean they weren't slacking. This allowed a shady cloaked figure to walk right past them, out of the city, without notice.

"Idiots."

* * *

Nekov was disappointed.

This is entirely normal and consistently happens every day almost everywhere he goes. However, this morning was filled to the brim with disappointment. He was disappointed in his mother for sleeping longer than a quarter of the mortals in the city, he was disappointed in the ale he drank before leaving the city, and he was disappointed in the state of awareness that every guard in the city shared – that is, not aware at all.

And the day hadn't even started yet. The sun had only just begun to rise, turning the sky a shade of purple that reminded him of the eyes of his annoying older sister figure who had temporarily interrupted his sleep last night. It would take the sun another two and a half hours to rise completely.

A sigh.

The state of the sky was important though. He was going back to see Meridia. She was more powerful when the stars were visible for some reason, and more power meant easier communication. Upon reaching the statue, the beacon began to glow, signaling her personal attention to its surroundings.

"Yay!"

And he shot into the sky for the second time in two days.

* * *

"You did it! Sheo's back!"

"You better thank me, getting him to go back was a horrifying experience."

"How so?"

"His Wabbajack made me female while inside the head of a dead, insane emperor."

"Now I kinda wish I had been there to see that."

"Hey!"

"What! That sounds hilarious! You, a partially psychotic, cannibalistic, sadistic monster of a man, becoming a woman! I'm jealous of Sheo now."

"I hate you."

She pouts, "You don't mean that."

"I do. I really, really do."

"Nope. It's not possible." She latches onto him like a leech.

A sigh, "…I suppose I don't quite _hate _you."

"Yay!"

"But you're too loud."

"Awww… You're mean!"

"And you're being more childish than usual."

"I'm balancing out. You became less childish, so I have to make up for it."

"I don't see how that makes sense."

"There is a very delicate balance in the levels of personality traits here. You are the sadistic psycho who's mean, and I balance it by being nice. There needs to be a specific level of childishness between us both, and since you left you've become much less childish."

"All this explaining makes you less childish."

"No! We can't have that!" She rubs her head on his chest like a cat would someone's leg. "It's not good for our- Woah!"

"Cheeeese! Cheese for everyone!"

"What did I do to deserve this?" Nekov is not amused.

"Sheo!"

"Hello uncle."

And a severed head covered in clown makeup flies into Nekov's back fast enough to damage a normal man's spine.

"I told you not to do that boy! I hate polite greetings among family!"

"Sorry, uncle."

"So, Sheo, what did you come here for?"

"The boy! He needs help on this quest of his!"

"I see no need for help."

"Ahhh but you're not looking in the right place! I don't mean physical help, ya nob!"

"What then?"

"Entertainment!" The Mad God exclaims with a grin.

"Why would I need entertainment?"

"Everyone needs entertainment! The old, the young, the soldiers, the thieves… the mad…"

"I am none of the above."

"On the contrary, I'd say you'd be welcome in the Isles with your state of mind. Even Haskill would like ya!"

"I am perfectly sane!"

"Uh... I'd have to agree with Sheo on this one."

A sigh.

"Damn it boy! Don't sigh at me like that!"

"So what… entertainment can you send along?"

"Oh I won't just be sending it along, I'll be following this mission of yours very closely. I'll be trading entertainment for entertainment. You entertain me, and I will do the same for you."

"Please don't."

"Too late!"

And a flash of light enveloped Meridia, blinding Nekov. When it died down, his face was almost instantly covered by his palm.

"Sheo! What did you do to me!?"

"Why, dear sister, I've only done what you would've wanted me to do."

"But, but…" A sigh. Nekov must be contagious.

"Don't you start!"

"I honestly didn't see this coming."

"Good, the author would be sad if his characters saw his plot points before he implemented them."

Hey! Don't go breaking the Fourth Wall, Mad God!

"Right, right."

Geez.

"I won't even ask."

"Good, it's not easy to explain anyway. Your mind probably wouldn't be able to handle it."

"So what did you actually do to me, Sheo?"

"I sent you to the mortal realm!"

"Really!?"

"Well… Not exactly." Sheogorath popped his cane into existence and leaned on it, despite it not having anything under it to support him.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Some of you is here and the rest of you isn't here."

"So only some of her power came through and the rest is in Oblivion." Nekov states.

"Exactly."

"Oh. I get it."

"This means you'll be weaker for a time… well, the whole time. Until you go back to Oblivion that is. I've kept the portal accessible here, so if you need to go back you can."

"That's great!" She latched onto Nekov again, "Now I get to go with you and Namira. Isn't that awesome!?"

"Uhh…"

Her grip tightens and her nails dig into his back, "Isn't it?" She asks again with a deceptively sweet smile on her face.

"Sure, sure. Now can you let go of me?"

"Nope!"

"Good luck boy!" The Mad God yells to him, stepping through a portal, "Haskill! Make that tea with baby tears in it!"

* * *

Back on the ground, Nekov and Meridia were struck speechless by the sheer stupidity of what was happening.

There was cheese everywhere, stuck on the statue, covering the mountain, and rolling down the hill. Sitting on the cheese was a large number of mudcrabs - all wearing monocles and top hats – drinking tea.

"I'd say something about this but I'm almost certain that it would get worse if I did."

"Right." Meridia was stuck between speechless and hysterical laughter.

"Let's just go."

"Right." She says with a chuckle.

* * *

A/N: There'll be one more Daedra joining them after this. You'll probably be wrong on all your first guesses.

It may seem boring now, but it will pick up in the next chapter, which will come soon. In the meantime, I want someone to come up with a character, an OC, who is male and has a backstory. If I am satisfied with it I'll use him as one of the male group members. The backstory doesn't have to be long or detailed. He needs a physical description and a personality description.

And if you're worried about all my "readers contribute" stuff, don't be. These two things are all I want your input on.

So send me a character and a side for the civil war.

EDIT: Temporary Hiatus. Sorry.

Signing off~


End file.
